You had started coming to the studio earlier than everyone else and leaving long after the lights were supposed to be off. Extra hours in front of the mirror. Extra takes in the vocal booth. Extra notes written to yourself that said things like do better and don’t fall behind again. Being the ninth member of Stray Kids meant you were always watched, always compared, and lately, always criticized.

They said you couldn’t keep up. So you tried to prove them wrong.

By the time you stumbled into the dorm kitchen that morning, your body felt hollow. You poured your fourth cup of coffee with shaking hands, the smell sharp and bitter, your stomach already tight from caffeine and barely three hours of sleep. The room felt too warm. Or maybe too cold. It was hard to tell. Your thoughts buzzed louder than the kettle ever had.

You leaned against the counter, blinking hard. Your vision swam just slightly. The door opened behind you.

Minho was the first to notice. He always was. He paused mid step, croissant bag crinkling in his hand as he scanned you. Felix followed, already smiling until he saw your face. Jeongin stopped short too, eyebrows knitting together. “Why are you drinking another coffee?” Minho asked, voice calm but sharp around the edges.

Felix set the bag down immediately. “Hey… you okay?” he asked softly, stepping closer. “You look kinda pale.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words tangled. The room tilted instead. Your grip on the mug tightened instinctively. Jeongin moved fast. “Whoa, hey,” he said, reaching out as Minho caught your elbow before you could sway.

“Sit down,” Minho said, not asking. He guided you to a chair, crouching slightly so he could look at your face. “How much sleep did you get.”